


Somniloquy

by Lachanophobic



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Domestic Bliss, F/M, Humor, Short, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:28:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23883022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lachanophobic/pseuds/Lachanophobic
Summary: Guess what is it that thing that's a recurrent habit Bulma can't shake off, a show that Vegeta seems to particularly enjoy and dread at the same time and something that, by all means, Trunks should never know?
Relationships: Bulma Briefs & Trunks Briefs, Bulma Briefs/Vegeta, Trunks Briefs & Vegeta
Comments: 28
Kudos: 83





	1. Chapter 1

The midnight glow cascading on her curvaceous ass makes her white skin look even whiter, and it's enticing, as much as it is ridiculous. She wiggles it in her sleep, then titters and pushes her head deeper in the pillow. 

Being on this planet has changed some of his habits, many of which he doesn't understand and doesn't even try to. Like observing Bulma's sleeping antics, a sight, he believes, he sort of inherited the day they moved into the same room. 

What he's truly waiting for is a precise moment, the beginning of what one would define as a puppet show. She turns around, faces him now. Her locks fall all over her face, leaving visible just the fleshy curve of her mouth, glistening in the dark. 

But that's not what he's looking forward to. 

It always begins the same way, when that woman's hand crawls under the cushion. "...so I don't really get it." Here it is. 

He crosses his arms, leaning backwards against the headboard.

"I always end up choking on his cock. It's not like I can't handle it, more like-- the girth you know? _Thick as a cob._ " 

A while ago, he would have thought this would be one of her ruses to get him to give her attention. However, even tonight her ki is too quiet for her to be awake. It's been a month and every night her mouth spills out sexual obscenities related to him. 

And the fact he started to enjoy it, is proof enough that he's getting excessively influenced by the tides of this lunatic woman. 

"But hey, he knows how to use his tools." She sniggers, smug, " _if you know what I mean_."

He gets up from the bed, as silent as a stealthy hungry saiyan can be. Oftentimes she pushes her words too far, and even being the only one awake, he can't help the need to leave the room to take a break. 

Immersed in the obscurity of the kitchen, is not a rare event to meet his vagrant son in front of the fridge. They sit two stools away. The kid is strangely silent tonight and eyes him slantwise, trying and failing to hide his errating spiritual energy. 

"Speak." He commands, without bothering to move his focus from the food under him.

"Uhm…" 

"Don't play with the fork. It's grating." 

The child yelps and the silverware clatters on the floor. "Whoops." Trunks' nervous snicker sounds like his mother's.

"Papa…" he starts again, "is the baby-bringer coming?"

Vegeta spits out a bone too energetically for it to pass as a voluntary reaction. But the shadow of midnight slips back on his face together with composure fast enough to hide his mishap. However, staring hard at the plate in front of him is proving to be ineffective to retrieve an actual response. 

"Today mom was napping in her lab and started to talk to someone…" 

Someone should wish a filter for that woman's mouth the next time they summon that fucking dragon!

"How…" he takes a pause, clearing his throat, "how much did you hear?"

Trunks doesn't reply immediately, and this much reveals that he has heard more than he should have. 

"Forget it." His timbre is flat, but he's dying inside. "It doesn't concern you." 

"O-kay… but what about the baby-bringer?" 

Trunks' pressing query forces him to finally look at the boy, whose face is crumpled in a troubled expression.

"Is this another mystical being Kakarot's son has lobotomized you with?" It's not inadvertently that he slips acrimonious sarcasm at the end of the sentence.

"I knew it!" The kid snickers, snapping his fingers. "Aunt Chichi keeps treating Goten like a child, I told him that babies come from the uterus-"

"Your mother on the other hand seems to give you overdoses of anatomy." This conversation is making him more uncomfortable than Bulma's talk about his cock. "If you have to scar the child, do it on the battlefield. And your mother is not pregnant."

"Why was she listing baby names in her sleep? And sounds like she expects many of them to be Captains or Big-"

This conversation is taking an unrealistic turn, as unrealistic as the level of blood that suddenly converged on his face.

" _Enough._ " His sudden rise makes the platters tremble. 

"No kids. Copy that. Night papa!" 

The kid scuttles away plate-in-hand, and Vegeta has never been more tired after a goddamn conversation in his whole life. 

His gaze moves to the hallway. He could just slip in the gravity room and forget that his son now knows all the nicknames Bulma has conceived for his cock in her demonic sleep talk.

It would be easy, though… 

She needs to _pay_ for that.

And he knows _exactly_ what his revenge will be.


	2. Chapter 2

All the warmth she was basking in is slowly leaving her body, forcing her to curl up toward her belly. It's upon realizing that her body is trapped, that her brain finally thunders awake and her eyes spread wide to the source of her discomfort; whilst most of her sleepy neurons try to formulate depreciative epithets, a rebel cluster detached from the rationale side of her, whistling appreciatively at the sight just on top of her. 

Vegeta and his predatory, smoldering gaze is all over her, as his whole, dripping wet and naked body is. She'd like to kick him in the crotch for sodding her with cold water, but the fact it wouldn't be effective and the warm butterfly of anticipation batting its wings in her lower belly switch her swords into a mellifluous and playful: "Have you been standing out in the rain again?"

His unabashed expression doesn't change, but after many years of training, she can read a sort of childish satisfaction twinkling in his black eyes. "No," he affirms, moving one of the hands planted at the sides of her head, at the height of her mouth, taming with his knuckles a strand of hair she was probably chewing in her sleep. The simple action sends pleasurable tingles all over her neck, already hardening her nipples under her pajama. 

"I deliberately took a shower just to wake you up…" he trails off and she knows instantly that this smells fishy. But having him take this kind of initiative is enough to not give a rat's ass about hidden ulterior motives. 

And she knows that he's got all his defenses down when he initiates something. In fact, it's ridiculously easy to slip her arms around his slippery neck and pull him closer to mingle his slightly laboured breathing with hers. Her right leg bends just the right amount to graze his inner thigh with her knee. "So…" she whispers, against his lips, "since when do you take showers without me? One this cold, to boot." She smiles against and takes the bottom lip in her teeth. Vegeta's reply is a hot exhale, and as he steals - revengeful - her upper lip, sucking on it, drops of now lukewarm water roll down the tip of his nose, down between their joined mouths. 

Bulma's hands wander lower, on his sculpted shoulders, mapping out with her nails the protrudescent veins along the muscles; they're tractioning at her touch, as if he's holding back somehow. _Oh_. She squeezes her eyes in a mirthful leer. _He is_ holding back. And she's curious to know why. But in order to extoll something out from Vegeta, she needs to work on his weak points. 

His hand is lusciously caressing her thigh and pressing it against his hip, when she breaks the kiss, stealing his breath away. She likes what she sees, when he's looking at her that way, irises just glazed by desire, it makes her feel wanted. Truly _wanted_. 

Despite his exterior, Vegeta is quite the impatient being when he gets properly provoked. Both in war and in love. And this side of him is one of the many she likes the most. He learned a long time ago that in this game, she's never the prey. That is why he gets wary of her every movement when she undoes what he starts. While she's still lazily scratching his back, her other hand moves on her neck, swiping the tip of one finger down between her collar bones; until it hooks against the v of her pajama top. The first button comes off easily, and the second pops just as quickly. 

And when she reaches the third, Vegeta's hand comes firmly on top of hers. But just when she started to think she had got him, instead of removing it, he takes her fingers among his own, _guiding_ her toward the next button. She doesn't bother to hide the surprise and the thrill behind such a simple gesture. That perhaps might mean nothing to every other earthling, but holds so much significance to her. He's not taking over, not letting her do it alone. But doing it with her. It's tantalising and fills both her body and heart with liquid pride and love and all the things that she has shared with this alien for the past years. She follows every button coming off, admiring the different shape of their joined hands, the slightly tanner skin of his, the calloused tips of both of their fingers. And how Vegeta doesn't let go of her when the shirt falls fully open on her chest. Again, he drags both their palms on her breast, squeezing her fingers closed around it. 

In that moment their gazes meet again, and his voice is hoarse with unspent want when he says: "I'm taking your place." Vegeta can sound commanding even in the bed, but this kind of order holds nothing of his usual baritonal, off-timbre. It's different, it's rich and deep and resounds from his chest almost like a plea. She can't describe it, but every time he speaks, her core shivers impatiently and twitches to have him between her legs, inside of her. 

She moves fast, slipping away from under him and he follows. However, as soon as his back hits the pillow, Vegeta grabs her before she can crawl on top of him; his arms sneak around her waist, dragging her between his legs whilst one hand coaxes her back into laying on his chest. And… this is new and bewildering and...nice. She falls backwards, leaning her nape against his shoulder, and turning it slightly, so that her mouth can brush against his neck. "You're still all wet," she murmurs, kissing away a trail of water immediately under his earlobe. 

"So are you." His chest quivers against her back, and his voice feels a thousand times sexier than before. 

She smiles, mouthing a 'hell yeah' against his skin. This time she's the one taking his hand, and he lets her guide him down to her chest and sternum, during their course, Vegeta's hands leave tickling signatures of water, that mark their passage. She trembles, murmuring appreciatively at the dual sensation of wet and hot, that magnifies when they bypass the elastic band of her pants and reach her sensitive clit. Now she's the one that can't wait. Her legs bend and Vegeta is fast with his assist, he cranes forward, dragging her with him and his other hand is on her leg already, spreading it and holding it firmly. She's still watching him from under her lashes, lids heavy with expectation. He veers his gaze to her, too. He swallows once and all she feels later is their bodies switching to a new angle, falling sideways and the electrifying sensation of Vegeta's hand taking over again, burying their fingers inside of her. 

The pillows are scattered somewhere on the bed, and her head is pressing partially against the cool surface of the mattress and… Vegeta's mouth is literally pushing on hers, sinking all of her _her_ _into_ the mattress. She can barely register anything but the increasing heat in their breaths and the mounting need rapidly pooling where the fingers are lunging fast. God. Vegeta is grinding against the crack of her ass, growing harder by the second. The dirty shlopping of their fingers, the slippery friction of her husband's chest on her back, his shallow breathing, the moonlight casting shadows on those black, now even blacker eyes. This is too much. 

Her lips part, they feel swollen and bitten, but oh, so good. 

"I want you." 

He steals her thunder again, and whispers it in her mouth, slipping out of it and curling his tongue on his upper lip, licking it. 

She's out of voice, and can just respond with a harder swallow, pushing her ass backwards against his cock. Vegeta understands it, and guides their fingers out of her, just a few inches above; refusing to stop pleasuring her. She closes her eyes and lets out a relieved moan, when the feeling of his hardness finally slipping at her entrance hits her. 

It opens her wide, slowly, inch after inch, filling her up. It's ecstatic, they're both trembling... finally… finally Vegeta is letting go his inhibitions. 

He doesn't hold back anymore, and rocks against her freely, expelling every puff of air and grunting. From here on it's all frenzy. He hauls her on top of him again, releasing her hand and seizing both of her tights. She takes a hold of his tensed arms, whilst he lifts her, pushing his pelvis up and now harder and faster, and burying himself so deep that it feels like as if his tip is pressing against her belly. 

If she's hiccupping, crying or screaming, she doesn't know anymore… but sure as hell, she's cresting. When it happens, Bulma throws her neck backward. Vegeta is suckling and lapping at her shoulder and her fingers search and find his black, wild mane, pulling and carding through the wet strands. 

The last intelligible thought she has is of Vegeta whispering to her "you didn't tell me…"

Then, nothing else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the talented Ruthlesscupcake, Lady_Red and Ni21 for helping with the chapter. Love you guys.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Ruthlesscupcake for betaing this little chapter!


End file.
